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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020155">kaamos</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers'>takenbynumbers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Undead and Damned [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), Shibari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:47:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cloud is floundering. Vincent is there to help in a myraid of ways (post AC).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cloud Strife/Vincent Valentine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Undead and Damned [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>kaamos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He watches as the sun reflects off Vincent’s black hair, like a wisp in the wind. He’s dying to touch it - feathered and deep black soot through his fingers, nothing but light texture and something to bury his hands in. Everything fades around them into white noise and Cloud inhales through his nose, looks away for a moment. Marlene runs around, playing fighting with Denzel. Weaving around Vincent and the way his cloak falls and he turns, allowing them to run through it. They’ve gotten bigger but they still get a kick out of hanging out with Vincent – training gently, preparing them for whatever will come in the future when they have no one but each other to turn to.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud can feel Vincent banging his skeleton with every gesture, every upturned quirk of his lips. A flash of ruby red eyes, dark with unknown intent. Puncturing his heart, blowing it out and through his senses, causing him to clench his hands by his hands. Has it always been like this? Deep seated obsessions overlapping, making up for lost time and experiences. He’s always been motivated. Single-minded. A drive to do the right thing, be the right thing. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes when he looks at Vincent, he feels like he’s free-falling. Opening up in ways he’s rarely done, guided through a metaphorical fog of uncertainty tinged with desire, darkened with uncertainty. Every meeting brings them closer with a lingered stare, a brush of cloth against bare skin. The tip of a gloved finger, touching his forearm. </p><p> </p><p>(Tifa asked him, once, how he felt. He looked at her and noticed how tired she seemed. And at first he didn’t quite understand the question. He was fine. He’d always been fine. Despite everything – physically, he was fine. It wasn’t until Barret complained about his back that Cloud realised exactly what the question meant.)</p><p> </p><p>He’s not aged since he’d returned to Midgar. And he can now see it – sees the way Barret’s hair is slowly starting to run through with silver, how Tifa takes her time with things. How the kids – they’re not kids. They’re older. They’re adults. He can’t see it, he’s always seen them as kids, and that night he cries. For the first time in a long while, he cries for something as absolute and out of his control as linear time.</p><p> </p><p>He looks at Vincent, his mind fixing what’s in front of him – how Marlene and Denzel cease running about to talk quietly, walking off, paying no mind to Vincent. And Vincent just smooths out non-existent wrinkles on his leather pants, gauntlet glinting in the light. Cloud just watches. It’s what he’s good at. It feels like all he’s done is watch time go right past him. How old is he? He celebrates everyone’s birthday, but at some point they cease to celebrate his. Maybe it was because he was never around when it occurred.</p><p> </p><p>“Cloud?”</p><p> </p><p>The low baritone pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up, sees Vincent close. A whisper of black and crimson, impossibly silent and deadly. And Cloud wants. He wants with everything he’s never thought to voice. Tight muscles under his calloused fingertips, breathy moans in his ear, blown black and glowing red eyes gazing into his. Dancing through the moonlight, skin against skin, coiled together in a lover’s embrace.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“You look troubled. Is something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Ever so understanding, willing to listen, regardless of what's going on - <em>accepting</em>. And Cloud hates that. He doesn’t have the same patience or acceptance for other twists and turns in life. He can’t even accept what’s in front of him at any given moment. </p><p> </p><p>“Everything’s fine,” he says automatically. It’s easy to lie, especially when it’s one that he’s been repeating for years. The look he gets in return is slightly narrowed eyes, half hidden by the mess of hair barely held back by the strip of red cloth. Cloud wants to rip that bandana off Vincent, tie his hands together – </p><p> </p><p>“Lie to everyone else, but do not lie to me. We have too much time to allow secrets between us.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud blinks. Once. Twice. He’s always had a habit of allowing his emotions to flash over his face, unable to hold them back. And he knows it’s probably confusion and anger mixed with incredulity. It’s what he’s feeling, after all. </p><p> </p><p>“So you’ve noticed.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hard not to. I keep wanting to talk to you about it, but you seem to be avoiding me lately. Have I done something wrong?” </p><p> </p><p>Ever proper and polite. Cloud wants to break those walls down, make Vincent anything but polite. Dirty that visage. Pull back the mask for the beasts lurking underneath the surface. </p><p> </p><p>“No. I’m just…it’s hard to think about. I don’t really…understand it. Even Nanaki…” </p><p> </p><p>“It is a frightening prospect. But you will adapt. Perhaps the mako merely slowed the aging process. Or it will suddenly be spent from your system and your body will catch up. It's not like it was studied over a long period.” Vincent steps closer and Cloud cranes his neck slightly to look up at him. It’s refreshing to have someone talk about it, but he’s uncertain as to what it all means. And he knows he could ask. He knows he could travel to find out. </p><p> </p><p>Except he’s tired. So very tired of chasing answers for things he never asked for. And he supposes Vincent is in the same airship.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still long for what you had before?” It’s out before Cloud can stop himself, and Vincent merely eyes him. He doesn’t realise how close he is until the tip of a talon reaches out and traces over Cloud’s cheekbone - cold and sharp, exactly as he envisioned. His eyes close and he doesn’t miss the low growl that comes out of Vincent. Nothing more than a suggestion, but it’s there.</p><p> </p><p>“What I had before was...complicated in its own way and unfulfilling. My needs are more beast-like in nature now. All I long for is simple companionship.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud cracks open one eye when he senses Vincent remains close – and he is. A looming presence both trying to blend in and intimidate. Once a Turk...</p><p> </p><p>“You want something, Strife?”</p><p> </p><p>“Need would be accurate,” Cloud admits quietly, blood pumping through his veins, hot and pulsing with anticipation. </p><p> </p><p>“I cannot be anything more than a companion. It’s too...unpredictable. You <em>must</em> know this cannot go anywhere.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then help me figure out who I need to be.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Vincent doesn't hang around Edge all that often- seemingly disappearing for longer periods of time as the place starts to build up rapidly around them. Cloud doesn't blame him - he finds himself taking on deliveries and favours for Reeve further out, falling back into old habits of disappearing. Only this time he keeps his phone charged, checks in on Tifa and the kids. No, not kids. </p><p> </p><p>After their conversation (that had, unsurprisingly, ended with Vincent taking off for gods knows where), he starts to find Vincent either near his destinations or on the way. He doesn't ask if he's being followed - just ensures they're both sufficiently covered by his sleeping bag whenever they're camping outside. </p><p> </p><p>When he meets Vincent about halfway to Mideel, Cloud offers him a ride on Fenrir. The look on Vincent’s face is both perfectly blank and mildly concerned, any other expression hidden by his mantle. Except he climbs on the back of the bike, and Cloud doesn't question it as he takes off on his journey again - this time with Vincent’s gloved hand resting lightly on his hip. He looks back only once and sees Vincent with his head tilted back; his wild hair blowing back much like his cape in a perfect encapsulation of the freedom he feels on Fenrir.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>(The first time Vincent blindfolds him, he sees black leather and cat-slitted green eyes laughing at him behind his closed lids, and he has a panic attack. It’s not the first time – a play of shadows across Vincent’s face as he fucked him under the stars, and Cloud had panicked - pulling out hurriedly and stammering apologies, half expecting Masamune to come out of nowhere.)</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They never talk about it. The fragile relationship between them is built on <em>not</em> talking about what haunts their dreams. Their memories. <em>Existence. </em>Occasionally when Vincent shares his bed, Cloud will awaken in the middle of the night and see a flash of gold in the darkness before they settle back to a red gleam. </p><p> </p><p>"Go back to sleep.” </p><p> </p><p>Cloud can’t - he never can when he’s had a nightmare he can’t put into words. Vincent merely slips his arm around him and cradles him against his chest.<br/><br/>(The first time it happened, Cloud wanted to complain about how fragile Vincent seemed under his clothes - all bone and sharp angles, like the mere weight of Cloud’s head will threaten to cave in his chest.)<br/><br/>Now he just clutches at his shirt and breathes in his scent. All earthy-dampness and stale cigarette smoke, spiced with something he doesn’t have a name for but he adores on Vincent. His touch is gentle in his hair, fingers carding through, strumming and tugging on his fragile emotional threads like a damned instrument. He can’t put into words what <em>this</em> is but it’s threatening to tear his (admittedly not quite as fragile as it used to be) psyche apart. </p><p> </p><p>It occurs to him that he’s already finished his delivery but they’re still travelling together - almost aimlessly, until he realises it’s part of Vincent’s research into...something. Cloud never asks, and Vincent never offers unless he’s been asked directly. Even then, sometimes all he’ll get is a wry smile and silence. Like Cloud couldn’t possibly comprehend what he’s up to and maybe Vincent’s right but it doesn’t mean he -</p><p> </p><p>“You think too loudly. I may have a solution for that...if you are amenable to the idea…” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>*<br/><br/><br/></p><p>“Just a little longer. You can do this.” </p><p> </p><p>Cloud lets out a quiet, dry sob, head hanging low, enough to put a strain on his neck. The rope tightens and threatens to cut across his arms, the loops and knots almost too uncomfortable with how they dig into his bare skin and apply heavy pressure against the crease of his groin. The first time he allowed Vincent to tie him up, it left him exhausted in ways he didn’t know he could <em>be</em> without fighting. That night, he’d managed to sleep longer than usual, waking up...not cheerful, but quietly content.  </p><p> </p><p>He’s kneeling this time, with Vincent behind him. If he leans back, he can feel Vincent’s shirt against his back. As it is, he can feel how the metal of his gauntlet warms as it moves across his chest, carefully checking each loop. Deft and precise, the other hand yanks the rope up and Cloud’s head falls back against Vincent’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He knows Vincent is hard. Can <em>smell</em> it, especially in the way Vincent shifts, letting out a shuddering breath. </p><p> </p><p>When Vincent finishes checking everything, he sits down on the floor properly, legs sprawled out in front and pulls Cloud back against his chest. His eyes flutter shut, and Vincent inhales sharply. </p><p> </p><p>“How do you feel?”</p><p> </p><p>The words cut through the haze as Cloud shifts, his hands flexing against the bonds. They both know Cloud could get out of it if he wanted. They both know he doesn’t want that.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Cloud answers truthfully. Vincent presses a gentle kiss to his forehead - surprisingly chaste for what they’re doing. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember your safe word?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mako.” </p><p> </p><p>“Good.” And all Vincent does is hold Cloud against him, moving the rope to his other hand so his flesh hand can press against Cloud’s chest. He squirms at the touch as his eyes flutter shut. “Stay still. You <em>need</em> to be still.” Just as much for Cloud’s benefit as it is for Vincent - he knows it can’t be comfortable, having that constant pressure on his cock. Vincent hides it well, though Cloud knows if he keeps moving, keeps pushing it…</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t want it. Instead, he closes his eyes and settles in against Vincent. Something seems to click off in his mind as he finds himself disassociating, half dozing. He stirs occasionally when the ropes are adjusted, and his hands rubbed to help circulation but otherwise he remains floating. It reminds him of before - floating in a tank, through the Lifestream...only this time it’s by choice. </p><p> </p><p>At some point, Vincent picks him up and over to the couch, and starts to undo his handiwork. Cloud lets out a soft sigh as those same hands trace over the marks left by the blue rope before cupping his face. </p><p> </p><p>“...Cloud?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinking blearily, he looks at Vincent, struggling to focus. Those eyes - crimson bright and dark, looking positively feral, and he can feel the slight tremor of Vincent’s hand against his face. </p><p> </p><p>“...Want you,” he finally manages to get out, voice hoarse and dry. He coughs and Vincent lets go of him in favour of guiding a glass of water to his lips. Cloud drinks deeply, ignoring the water that escapes and spills down his chin. It’s unimportant, he’s so lax he might just fall asleep on the couch. As he thinks it, his eyes fall shut as the water is taken away, settling back into the couch. Wordlessly, Vincent picks him up again, carries him to the bedroom and strips him of his pants before drawing the blankets up over him. Cloud curls in on himself, a shiver running through him and half-listens to the sound of Vincent undressing and slipping into bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Cloud whispers against the crook of Vincent’s neck, feeling the weight of his hair settle against his face as Vincent moves his head to accommodate. Sleep comes easy, and in the morning Vincent will ask him what exactly he means by ‘<em>thank you’ </em>and Cloud will simply smile and shake his head.</p><p><br/>*<br/><br/></p><p>When Tifa asks him how Vincent is, he just shrugs, kicking the dirt underfoot. He’s in Edge to check in on everyone – trying to etch out some kind of normalcy. Reeve keeps texting and he’d rather see him in person than run into Cait.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you two actually together or are you still fucking around?” That makes him look up and she offers a sheepish smile instead of the teasing he’s expecting. “When you two were here last…we had plenty of space for him. And he stayed with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud remembers that night – they didn’t fuck but Vincent did blow his fucking mind with that tongue, eyes gleaming from under dark lashes. He flushes, and Tifa nudges his foot with hers.</p><p> </p><p>“We...don’t need to talk about... Not really. It’s just some physical comfort…companionship. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”</p><p> </p><p>It makes his heart ache to say, but he knows it’s true. Wasn’t that a stipulation? And he’s afraid, so fucking afraid if he says something that it will all end and he’ll be alone with his thoughts. His memories. His <em>existence</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should talk about it one day? Couldn’t hurt, right?”</p><p> </p><p>He shoots her a glare in response, and she throws up her hands in mock surrender.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m not trying to infer anything," she says. "I’m just worried. Trying to look out for you. If he hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.”</p><p> </p><p>That makes him laugh – the idea of Tifa going head to head with Vincent would be a sight to see and they move onto safer topics after that but her words still linger.</p><p> </p><p>Couldn’t hurt. Yeah, right.</p><p> </p><p>*<br/><br/></p><p>“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Cloud blurts out one day and Vincent pauses in slicking up his cock, mid-stroke. Those eyes stare at him, and a part of Cloud wants to take it back <em>immediately. </em>What a foolish thing to say in the middle of sex. “I’m starting to…it’s more than physical for me.” And trying to explain it feels even worse.</p><p> </p><p>“Given how you offer yourself over to me so freely, I had an inkling,” Vincent murmurs in reply, resuming his strokes. Cloud notes that <em>his</em> erection hasn’t wilted but his own has. The tension coils in his muscles, waiting for something – a return of the sentiment? Rejection?  It’s not until he leans in and presses a kiss to Cloud’s sternum that Cloud lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.</p><p><br/><br/>“You allow me to break you apart. I will continue to put you back together, time and time immemorial. As long as you’ll let me,” Vincent adds, and Cloud nods. He knows it’s not a confession of love but neither of them are willing to cross that bridge. And maybe they never will.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Cloud clutches the sheets tightly, face pressed into the pillow as Vincent stretches out his hole. "You're...ah! Getting better at that…" he manages to get out, turning his head enough to speak. The sounds are obscene - slicked fingers working him open, like they have all the time in the world. The only way he can even gauge the passage of time is by how warm Vincent’s gauntlet feels against his bare skin. </p><p> </p><p>For some reason Vincent has decided he's focusing on the preparation side of their fucking lately. Not that Cloud’s complaining- Vincent’s cock is a force to be reckoned with, but they both get impatient. Cloud has spent long nights between Vincent’s legs - breaking down his<em> still </em>somewhat stoic walls until he's breathlessly whining and on the cusp of shifting into one of his other forms - almost too far gone to control their impulses. </p><p> </p><p>(Vincent mentions once that they also want to 'play' and Cloud has a moment of panic at the thought until Vincent eases his worries, and okay maybe he's considering it <em>one day</em>. It’s not weird if it’s still Vincent underneath it all.)</p><p> </p><p>And he loves having his fingers lazily rubbing the bundle of nerves inside Vincent, his cock heavy in his mouth, wringing come out of him like he can subsist on Vincent's essence alone. Cloud positively<em> adores </em>it when Vincent paints his face, lets him finish anywhere he pleases - a kind of debauchery they usually save for when they’re outside (and preferably near a body of water). Once Cloud gets going he's usually good for a few rounds - aching to fulfil the emptiness etched deep into his bones with frantic rutting of skin against skin.</p><p> </p><p>Vincent indulges him, he knows that. Knows he doesn't quite crave that same physical intimacy; that he's content on a couch or out under the stars - head in his lap, having his hair stroked. That kind of intimacy that burns behind Cloud’s eyes, makes his throat feel like it's closing up. Makes him curl against Vincent’s back, hand on his chest, afraid to let go. </p><p> </p><p>It's a kind of love that he's willing to die for. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you with me tonight?" Vincent asks quietly with a twist of his fingers relentlessly buried inside. Cloud tries to speak and all that comes out is a guttural moan. He doesn't dare move back against those clever fingers - Vincent craves a certain amount of control when they're both naked like this and he can't blame him in the slightest. </p><p> </p><p>(The first time he saw Vincent naked, neither of them said a word but they didn't fuck. Instead Vincent just crawled under the covers, back facing Cloud, quiet and unmoving. It felt like everything had been ruined until the next morning when Cloud took it upon himself to coax Vincent onto his back with kisses and rode him hard as his calloused fingertips mapped over all that scarring, his eyes never leaving Vincent’s.)</p><p> </p><p>"Mm, you should see yourself...so open. Do you think I could just slip inside...you're so greedy for more…"</p><p> </p><p>That voice - low and husky, full of promises of <em>more</em> makes him whine low, arching his back in an attempt to bury those fingers <em>deeper</em>, as if that was even possible. Vincent doesn’t laugh at his desperation, merely encourages it - running a talon over Cloud’s spinal column, hard enough to make him jerk in response, cock twitching and dripping with precome onto the sheets underneath. When those fingers withdraw, he shuts his eyes, bracing himself for whatever comes next. Experience tells him it won’t necessarily be Vincent’s dick.</p><p> </p><p>“On your back, Strife.”</p><p> </p><p>The spot where he’s been leaking is wet against his back and Vincent manhandles him until his legs are hanging off the bed. Cloud blinks a few times, taking in the sight of Vincent breathing hard, his hair wild and loose, eyes gleaming with <em>intention. </em>Like he’s prey. And really, they both feed off each other in different ways.</p><p> </p><p>Spreading his legs invitingly, he winces when Vincent’s talons dig into his thighs and he knows they’ve drawn blood but he can’t bring himself to care. Not as Vincent sinks into him, breath hot against the side of his neck as he manipulates Cloud’s body – draping his legs over his shoulders, bending him in half. It’s too deep, too <em>much</em> and he chokes on his own spit, hands scrambling to grab Vincent’s hair. Every thrust is slow as Vincent withdraws almost all the way before pushing back in. Eventually Cloud lets go, neck muscles screaming at him as he tries to push back, trying to regain some kind of control.</p><p> </p><p>“Shh. Hold on,” Vincent whispers, unfolding Cloud’s legs and pulling out. Cloud thumps his head back against the bed, hands curled into fists by his side before he sits up, his lower back protesting at the movement.</p><p> </p><p>“Sit up against the headboard,” Cloud hisses, and he knows there’s <em>something</em> in his face that makes Vincent gracefully crawl onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, waiting. “Legs up.”</p><p> </p><p>With significantly less grace, he straddles Vincent, gripping his cock with one hand and lowering himself onto it slowly. They both moan as Cloud sinks down, leaning back against his legs for support when he’s fully seated. If he looks down he can see the gouge marks left by those fucking claws and Cloud wants to leave his own mark on Vincent – so fucking badly that it <em>aches</em>, like the cock currently buried deep in his ass.</p><p> </p><p>A part of him has come to realise that maybe he’s already done that and he can see it as he steadies himself, both hands on Vincent’s shoulders as he starts to roll his hips, rising up and down, riding him with a strange mix of frustration and burning heat that threatens to consume him. Vincent just takes it, hands loose on his hips, making no attempt to take over, his mouth slack, eyes dilated with lust and it’s <em>everything</em> to Cloud.</p><p> </p><p>The pressure is building in his balls and abdomen and Cloud falls against Vincent, head pressed against his shoulder. Warm metal presses against his neck, curling loosely and Vincent’s other hand rests on his lower back. His hips snap up as Cloud grinds down, his cock throbbing hotly between them, smearing fluid with every motion. Eyes shut, he loses himself in a different manner altogether, stuttering gasps escaping with the slide of Vincent’s cock in and out of him.</p><p> </p><p>When he comes it feels like he’s going to die as his body seizes up. Toes curling, body tensing, he bites the side of Vincent’s neck, muffling his cries as his cock spurts between them. Vincent roughly fucks him through it, chasing his own release with quiet groans that barely filter through the white noise buzzing and overwhelming Cloud’s senses. Pleasure morphs into overstimulation and Cloud tries to move away, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. The look of absolute <em>want </em>and <em>trust</em> in Vincent’s eyes that he sees through his own blurry vision makes him sob wordlessly and he can feel the moment Vincent comes inside of him.</p><p> </p><p>Trembling, he allows Vincent to move him gently off his cock. The loss of <em>fullness</em> makes him groan under his breath, feeling come and lube leak out of him. Without a word, Vincent picks him up, carrying him to the bathroom and depositing him carefully on the shower floor. Cloud doesn’t realise he’s still trembling until he accidentally bangs his head against the shower wall.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” His voice is hoarse and he shuts his eyes, drawing his knees to his chest, trying to catch his breath. It feels like a panic attack. It feels like he’s in over his head. It feels like love.</p><p> </p><p>“Careful. I’m not paying for a new wall <em>again</em>.” Vincent’s voice filters over the sound of the water as he turns on the taps. Cloud doesn’t pay attention to the cold water that immediately beats down on his head but he’s grateful when it turns warm. He’s even more grateful when Vincent comes in and sits awkwardly next to Cloud, pulling him against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting under the spray of water, there’s nothing but the rush of blood in his ears, the thumping of his heartbeat and with full clarity, Cloud knows it’s less about who he needs to be and more about <em>what</em> he needs.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you give me everything I need?” Cloud asks softly and he’s not sure if Vincent even hears him until his hand clutches him tighter around his torso, fingers digging into his shoulder too hard but Cloud doesn't mind.</p><p> </p><p>“There is sublimity in absolute surrender,” Vincent whispers back into his ear, tongue flicking out to lick over the shell. “We can learn together. If you’ll give me what <em>I</em> need…”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud shudders in response and surrenders to his needs.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm on twitter: takenbynumbers</p></blockquote></div></div>
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